


wayward sons

by ohmcgee



Category: DCU (Comics)
Genre: M/M, Trope Bingo Round 4, batman/supernatural fusion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-04
Updated: 2015-02-04
Packaged: 2018-03-10 10:12:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3286505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohmcgee/pseuds/ohmcgee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just a short, silly batfam-spn fusion fic for my tropebingo card.  Tim is Jess. Enjoy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	wayward sons

Jason tenses, his hand immediately sliding under the edge of the mattress to curl around the hilt of a knife. He blinks a couple of times to focus his eyes and glances at the clock. Two in the morning. He slips quietly out of bed and makes his way down the hall, wincing when the old wood floors creak beneath his feet. The living room is dark, still, except for the curtain blowing in the breeze. He didn’t leave the window open.

He turns to the left a fraction of a second too late as a tall, shadowy figure leaps and tackles him to the ground. They roll, Jason throwing his elbows and knees into it, connecting with his assailants ribs. Once they land, Jason has him pinned to the ground, blade of his knife pressed against his throat.

_“Dick?”_

Dick grins and the moonlight flooding in through the window lights up his smile like the cheshire cat’s. It’s fitting. “Hey baby bro. Miss me?”

Light suddenly floods the room and Jason frowns. Dick leans up, as far as he can with Jason still on top of him and gives Jason a knowing grin. “Gonna introduce me to your friend, Jaybird?”

Jason sighs and clambers off of Dick, sliding his knife underneath the rug for the time being. “Tim,” Jason says begrudgingly. “This is my brother. _Dick._ ”

_Jaybird_? Tim mouths, but Jason just shakes his head. 

“Sorry to disturb you boys so uh, late at night.” Dick leers. 

“Morning, actually,” Tim corrects, scratching his head and yawning. He’s standing there in a Smurf’s t-shirt that’s so small and thin it’s possible he’s had it since he was five and a pair of the tiniest grey boxer briefs Jason’s ever seen. So he can’t really blame Dick for staring. No, actually he can. Hands off, asshole.

“What do you want, Dick?”

“Well, uh,” Dick says, looking shiftily back and forth between Jason and Tim and Christ, Jason thinks, this isn’t going to be good. “It’s...Dad.”

Tim perks up. Jason doesn’t mention his dad much, his family at all really. Tim’s always pressing him to talk about his past, open up and all that bullshit, but he always figures out a way to change the subject or divert his attention somehow. Until the next time he asks.

“He, ah, went on a hunting trip.”

Jason’s insides churn. He knows what’s coming next.

“I haven’t heard from him in a few days.”

 

“Yeah, so? Dad goes _hunting_ all the time.” Jason sneers. “He kind of fails at communication. I’m sure it’s--”

“ _Jason_.” Dick says icily and pointedly glares at Tim. “Can we talk? Privately.”

“It’s cool,” Tim says, picking up on the tension between them. “I’ll make some tea or something. You guys catch up.”

Jason looks back and gives him an apologetic smile before he heads out into the hallway with Dick. As soon as the door is shut, Jason punches him in the face.

“Ow,” Dick says, rubbing at his jaw. _”Ow._ ”

“Fuck you for coming here,” Jason says, crossing his arms over his chest. “That asshole kicks me out, tells me not to come back, and now he wants my _help_?”

“Not want, needs,” Dick says. “I’m serious, Jay. I’m really worried this time. I can’t reach any of his cells. It’s been _weeks._ And he lied about what kind of case he was going on.”

Jason’s eyebrows shoot up, despite how hard he’s trying not to give a shit. He doesn’t have to try that hard, actually, but still.

“I found some files I don’t think he wanted me to see. I think he went after the thing that killed his parents.”

Jason’s chest tightens. The very first night Bruce took him in, a night Jason doesn’t like to think about _(house burning down around him, his mother pinned to the ceiling, blood pooled at her belly, dripping on his cheek)_ he told him about how his mother and father had died. A _demon._ Told Jason about how all the stories, all the monsters under the bed, they were _real._

“He can’t do it on his own,” Dick says, pleading with him. “He needs our help, Jason.”

Jason remembers his last day with Bruce, can still feel the blood on his hands.

_That was a person, Jason! You just killed an innocent person!_

_It was a demon_ , he’d said, tossing the knife at Bruce’s feet. _It killed that woman years ago._

_You don’t know that!_

They’d rode home in complete silence. Dick hadn’t even tried to turn the radio on, but once they got home Bruce turned to him, told him to pack his shit and leave, that he couldn't be a part of this life anymore.

_It’s for your own good, Jason,_ he’d said, but Jason knew. Bruce just couldn’t bear looking at him because he knew he was the one who made him that way. 

“He saved your life once,” Dick says, probably sensing he’s losing him. Then goes for the hail mary, the cheap shot. “You owe him.”

Jason sighs. He hates Dick so much, hates that Dick _knows_ him, his strengths as well as his weaknesses. “I have a job,” he says, but Dick’s face is already lighting up with optimism. “I have to be back on Monday by five.”

“That gives us two days,” Dick grins. “Me and you working together again, shouldn’t be a problem.”

A memory of standing back to back, Dick chanting something in Latin, double barrel heavy in his hands flashes through Jason’s mind. “Yeah,” he mutters. “No problem.”

He opens up the door to the apartment, ready to give Tim his bullshit excuse about having to go find their poor, drunk Dad, to find Tim fully dressed, standing by the door with two large duffel bags at his feet.

“Tim-”

“Salt, holy water, crosses, iron. Did I miss anything?”

Dick glares at Jason. “You _told_ him?”

“Hell no I didn’t _tell_ him.”

“Then --”

Tim rolls his eyes. “Jay, you sleep with three knives under your mattress. There’s a double barrel shotgun hidden under the backseat of your car and you nitpick every monster movie we watch down to every last detail. It doesn’t take a genius, even though technically I am one.”

Dick stares. 

“Oh and I’m coming with you.”


End file.
